


city sidewalks busy sidewalks

by memitims



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 08:19:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2844332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memitims/pseuds/memitims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the gallaghers need a christmas tree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	city sidewalks busy sidewalks

**Author's Note:**

> idk when this is even set. sorry lol

One day in the middle of December, Debbie decides that the Gallaghers are going to have a normal Christmas. Or at least as normal as they can. She pulls out an old box from the attic that hasn’t been touched in years, filled with half-working strings of lights and crumpled decorations and proceeds to spread them around the house.

“We’ll have to keep Frank out if you want this to work,” Fiona says. “He’ll ruin it all if we let him in.”

Debbie sighs. “I know. That’s Carl’s job. He’s already agreed to help.”

“I’ll get a tree,” Ian offers. “I think they’re still selling some on that empty lot two streets over.”

“Thanks Ian.” Debbie beams at him, and then goes back to wrapping a strand of tinsel around the stair banister.

Ian nods. He knows this will be good for them. All the Gallaghers had a rough year, but they always feel a bit better when everyone comes together and works on something. Ian doesn’t have many fond memories from his childhood, but some of the fondest are from the few years where their parents actually got a tree and he got to unwrap a present or two in the living room on Christmas morning.

He grabs his coat and hat and gloves from his room and bundles himself up in anticipation of the cold, nighttime Chicago air. A quick glance out the living room window shows that it’s snowing. Not too hard, or anything, but the idyllic, peaceful kind of snow that only ever seems to happen in movies.

Ian waves goodbye to his sisters and bounds down the front steps. He doesn’t head towards the empty lot though, not at first. Instead, he follows a route he knows by heart, could probably do it with his eyes closed if he wanted to, and ends up in front of the Milkovich house.

Their front porch is dusted with a light sprinkling of snow, and it melts underfoot as Ian climbs the steps. The street is almost completely dark, the only light coming from a few house porch lights and a flickering street lamp. He knocks on the door and waits, listening to the scuffling that goes on for a few moments before the door is pulled open. One of the older Milkovich brothers peers down at him – Ian can’t quite remember his name, but he thinks it might begin with a C or something – and blinks a few times before opening his mouth.

“Mandy’s not here,” he tells Ian.

Ian shrugs. “That’s okay. I’m looking for Mickey, anyways. Is he here?”

Mickey’s brother turns around and disappears into the house, yelling Mickey’s name. “That redhead’s here to see you,” he adds.

Ian stands in the doorway, tapping his foot against the old wood of the front porch. Mickey appears in the doorway less than a minute later, his slippers scuffling against the floor and his dark hair hilariously messy. Ian’s eyes catch on the few strands falling across his forehead and Mickey watches him stare and begins to self-consciously run his hands through it and rearrange his hair. Ian wants to reach out and help him, but he doesn’t, because it’s bad enough that they’re staring at each other in the doorway of the Milkovich house, and Ian’s pretty sure that Mickey would kill him if Ian tried to touch his hair in public.

“Hi.” Ian grins at him. He’s pretty sure that Mickey’s mouth ticks up in the corners, but he doesn’t let himself smile. Ian wishes Mickey would let himself smile more often.

“What are you doing here?” asks Mickey, endearingly disgruntled in the way Ian’s pretty sure only Mickey could ever pull off.

“You’ll see. Get your coat on. It’s cold outside.”

Mickey makes a vague noise of disapproval, but he turns around and grabs his coat from the closet.

“Wait inside, dumbass,” he calls over his shoulder to Ian. “If it’s so cold out. Don’t want you freezing to death.”

Something dumb inside Ian’s chest flutters at that.

Mickey returns a few minutes later, dressed in his winter clothes. He follows Ian out the door, back into the snow. They walk shoulder-to-shoulder down the street, their jackets slightly brushing against each other, and Ian wishes that they could walk even closer, that he could sling an arm around Mickey’s shoulders and pull his head into Ian’s neck and walk down the street like it was perfectly normal.

“Where the fuck are we going, anyways?” Mickey asks.

“Why do you ask so many questions?” Ian says, instead of answering. Mickey crosses his arms and sighs in response.

“I’m a curious dude. Plus, you literally just dragged me out of my house with no fucking explanation.”

“Yeah,” Ian agrees, “but you followed me out anyways.”

Ian’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to hear Mickey’s mumbled  _I’ll follow you anywhere, idiot_ , under his breath, so he doesn’t say anything about it. He does, however, brush a quick hand against Mickey’s back.

Mickey doesn’t look around with fear in his eyes and he doesn’t flinch. Ian grins stupidly to himself.

“We’re going to get a Christmas tree for my family,” Ian finally tells him, as they approach the empty lot.

For a few weeks in December, it’s not empty anymore, because a guy with an old trailer comes in and sets up racks of trees and strings lights up and people come from around the neighborhood to pick out a Christmas tree.

Ian pulls Mickey into one of the first aisles of trees. “Nothing too tall or big, those are going to be too expensive and won’t fit in the living room.”

Mickey nods in understanding. They begin to scan the trees for a good one as the snow begins to fall harder around them. Ian watches a few flakes catch and melt in Mickey’s eyelashes, which is super fucking gay when he thinks about it, but it’s not like Ian is ever one to apologize for who he is. He wants to watch snowflakes melt in Mickey’s eyelashes, so he does.

“Ian,” Mickey scolds, “focus on the trees. We’re on a mission, remember?”

Ian sighs and looks away, back towards the Christmas trees. “Okay, yes, fine. I remember. How about that one?”

He points to a good-looking tree, a little on the short side, but the needles are a nice, deep green.

“Sure,” Mickey shrugs. “Will it fit in your house?”

Ian steps closer and sizes it up. “Yeah, definitely. Let’s go ask the guy how much it is.”

\---

They only have to pay $20 for the tree and they get it to the Gallagher house without any problems. Debbie and Fiona help them set it up in the tree stand and fill it with water to keep the tree alive.

“Come upstairs,” Ian tells Mickey when they’re all done. “I have something for you.”

Mickey follows him up the stairs into Lip and Ian and Carl’s bedroom, which is thankfully free of its other occupants. Ian opens one of his doors and digs around until he finds what he’s looking for. Mickey sits down on Ian’s bed and nervously bunches his fingers around Ian’s bedspread.

Ian hands him the small, rectangular wrapped package and sits down next to Mickey.

“Shit,” Mickey says. “You didn’t have to get me anything. I don’t have anything for you.”

Ian waves him off. “Don’t worry about it. You hung out with me tonight. That’s all I really wanted.”

“Shit, Ian,” Mickey says again, a little shakily. “Don’t – don’t say that.”

They stare at each other for a few moments. They both know what Ian means, know how much he values their time together, know how fucking smitten he is, know this is dangerous for both of them, it is a confession, it’s  _I love spending time with you and I probably love you_  in simpler words.

“Open your present,” Ian instructs, breaking the silence.

Mickey opens it carefully, as if it might explode if he doesn’t unwrap the paper just right, and he lays the object – a picture frame – across his lap. He flips it over and stares at the picture.

It’s a picture of all three of them – Mickey, Mandy, and Ian – sitting together on the Gallagher porch. Fiona took it last summer on one of her many disposable cameras, during one of the rare times that Mickey had come over to the Gallagher house with Mandy. Ian had developed the pictures one evening and had snatched this one for himself after he saw it.

Mandy and Ian are laughing in the picture, their heads thrown back, probably giggling at some stupid joke. Mickey is half-glaring at Ian, half-looking at him like he’s the sun, his eyes soft in the summer light.

“ _Jesus_ , Ian,” Mickey says quietly.

“Sorry.” Ian grimaces. “It’s kinda stupid. No one wants a picture for Christmas. I just figured, you know, it’s a nice picture of the three of us and –”

Mickey cuts him off and kisses him breathless, his hand coming up to cup Ian’s chin and draw his mouth closer. Ian lets out an embarrassing gasp of surprise, but smoothly covers it up with a tiny moan and presses into Mickey’s mouth like it’s oxygen and he’s drowning.

“It’s fine,” Mickey says when they finally pull apart, “best fucking present I’ve ever gotten, maybe. Who would've thought?”

“Oh,” Ian smiles. “Wow. Cool. Merry Christmas.”

Mickey kisses him again, quick this time. “Merry Christmas, Ian.”


End file.
